


Who Hogs the Covers & Other May Week Short Fic from the TGS Spring Challenge

by BourbonNeat



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Episode-centric, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Smut, fest: TGS Spring Challenge 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 18:11:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1559459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BourbonNeat/pseuds/BourbonNeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four unrelated James May-centric drabbles, droubles and other short fic from May Week in the TGS Spring Challenge.</p><p>Ratings range from G to PG-13 (yeah, I was less porny this week for some reason), pairings range from gen/friendship to J/J to OT3. Both are indicated in the chapter title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who Hogs the Covers – Richard and James, James/well, you’ll see, PG

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is fiction. It never happened and is not meant to imply anything about the people featured in the story. Complete unreality from a fanciful mind.

"Other jobs just aren't like this," James muttered as he surveyed the small hotel room with its lone double bed.

"Lots of people travel for their jobs, mate," Richard observed as he padded back into the room, barefoot and dressed for bed.

James jumped slightly, surprised to find that he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. "Yes, but they stay in conventional places, booked well in advance. The worst they have to know is who on the team snores, not who hogs the covers."

Richard chuckled as he pulled back the duvet and climbed into bed. "Well, that's the price we pay to get to drive gorgeous cars like that Daytona."

James paused just shy of pulling back the duvet on his side, glad for the delay if he were honest. "Says the man who actually got to drive the Daytona – I _am_ driving it back, by the way – _and_ who hogs the covers."

Richard laughed. "Of course I do. I need the extra fabric to muffle your snoring."

James just shook his head and smiled as he finally stopped looking for reasons to delay the inevitable and crawled into his side of the bed. Unless the circumstances in question were romantic, he really hated sharing a bed – too much unavoidable touching. But it wasn't as if he and Richard hadn't done this many times before on film shoots, and in far less comfortable situations -- a certain small tent in the Lake District came to mind – and somehow this was just easier with Richard than it would have been with almost anyone else.

James turned out the light and shuffled about until he was comfortable, eventually rolling on his side to face the wall. Everything was quiet for a while and he was just starting to relax towards sleep when he heard Richard speak in the low, perfectly normal tones he would have used to inquire about the day's film schedule.

"I know, I know. This would only be fun with Jeremy."

Under cover of darkness, James went white, sputtering and stammering in his shock. "I - uh - How?"

He heard Richard chuckle warmly beside him. "You're not exactly subtle, James, and he's even worse..."

James sat bolt upright and turned on the light, shocked, embarrassed and worried. But Richard waved his hands slowly in a calming gesture.

"...at least not to good mates who know you both rather well," he amended.

James sagged in relief. "I don't... I - I'm so sorry I didn't... "

"It's alright," Richard said, a friendly reassuring smile on his face. "I know you would have said something eventually. Now turn out the light and let’s go to sleep."

Settling back down into bed, James murmured sleepily, "I would have told - I just... It's all so new. Too new to talk about."

Richard snorted. "For you maybe, he's only been talking my ear off about it for the last two years."

James shot back up in bed and flipped the light on again.


	2. Both the Calm and the Storm – James/Jeremy/Richard, G

It was an odd sort of life at times, Top Gear. Brilliant but odd, James reflected as he curled up on the sofa for the afternoon with a steaming cup of tea and his dog eared copy of _Gunning for the Red Baron_.

It was a completely nonsensical life where grown men were paid very grownup sums of money indeed to play like small boys with rare and expensive toys, most of which any one of them would have gratefully driven for free. Where luxury flights and stays in the poorest of accommodations were both normal, and he might order breakfast in three different languages in five days – and the tea would be served properly in _none_ of them.

Between warm, sunny winter days spent cocking about in New Zealand and South Africa, and a block of bitterly cold summer days in the Artic that he’d like to forget, even their seasons frequently defied logic. Yet he adored this and it was the only sort of life that could possibly have led to him spending the rest of it with Jeremy and Richard. Gazing out his window, drinking in the view as the late afternoon sun shone golden through the rich crimsons, ambers and browns of the autumn leaves, he could think of no higher recommendation for a life, really.

Those two, he chuckled to himself as he closed his eyes in pleasure sipping at the perfectly brewed tea. They had blown through his calm, well ordered life like a whirlwind, chaos personified, turning everything irreparably, wonderfully upside down. They tried his patience more than he’d thought possible, made him happier than he’d ever been and he loved them more than he’d thought himself capable.

Even so, sometimes when they were both away filming as they were now, it was blissful to have a calm day all to himself – a lazy autumn day that actually looked and felt like autumn, with a book and his music and a proper cup of tea. It felt like indulging in a little piece of his former life and reminded him how happy and content he had been with that peaceful order. And how even happier and more fulfilled he was now in the mad disarray.


	3. Colorful – James/Jeremy, PG

As a young man at university, James had embroidered colorful flowers on his jeans. Now much older, he’d traded the fanciful denim for fanciful shirts - stripes and flowers of every hue.

Not fashionable by any means, but that was never the point. Much like his long, wavy hair, the flowers and contrasting colors reminded him of those days at university and everything he loved – from classical music and poetry to rock and roll and Aston Martins – that made his life bright, colorful and, yes, eccentric.

And if Jeremy mocked his shirts endlessly, so be it. James had never particularly cared what others thought of his appearance.

Besides, the great bloody oaf also told an awful lot of gay jokes at his expense when clearly Jeremy had never minded _that_ …


	4. Finding the Right Tool - James/Jeremy, PG-13

James had always maintained that anyone could learn to use tools properly -- it was just a question of patience, paying attention and, in some extra difficult cases, finding the right tool.

Writhing in ecstasy on crisp blue sheets, biting his lower lip to keep from moaning too loudly just yet, he was even more pleased than usual to be proven right. _Bloody Nora_ , what that man could do with his mouth!

In Jeremy's extremely difficult case, they'd just had to broaden their definition of tools a bit.


End file.
